Just Another Small Town
by DrawMeASheep
Summary: One shot. Why is it that Shannon and Gibbs had never met if it was such a small town?


Disclaimer: It's hiding in the Pine-Sol scented air, somewhere that's green.

Spoilers: _Heartland_.

Summary: How did they never meet in a town that small? Unless…

* * *

She stepped off the train and looked around, feeling a familiar surge of disappointment. She needed to stop picking towns with names like – she craned her neck to read the faded sign – Stillwater. If it hadn't worked out in Blue Bell or Willow Grove or Honeywell Corners, there was no reason Stillwater had a chance. Fishkill hadn't been such a great change of pace, either, though, so… She sighed as the train blew its whistle and started out of the station. She could give this place a try for a few weeks, then head south. She didn't want to be stuck in Maine again for the winter, although working as a cook in the lumber camp hadn't been so bad. You couldn't count on getting room and board plus a salary just anywhere.

She sat down on a bench and used her one suitcase as a footrest, looking down the main street of the town. Maybe it only looked gloomy and deserted because it was overcast. At the opposite end of the street, where the shops turned into neatly manicured lawns, she could see a sign declaring the presence of an inn. She had enough money, probably, to stay for the night and get back on the train the next day. True, she would be completely broke by the time she reached Philadelphia, but at least she would have a better chance of finding a job.

A sudden rainsquall kept her on the bench just as she'd decided to make her way to the inn. Even the weather refused to encourage her to stay here. The city was going to be the place for her this time – she could feel it. It had to be, because otherwise she would have to go home and…what? End up just like her mother? Boring? She thought some time spent traveling would be enough to get the adventure out of her system, but a summer had turned into a year, and a year was turning into indefinitely.

This bad luck had to be tied to her age somehow. She'd been born a few years too late. A brief shift in time and she could have been joining a mass migration to San Francisco, then to Woodstock, and she would have plenty of people to travel with. Maybe people were the thing missing from her experience. Of course, even in the lumber camp she hadn't ever gotten used to the limited opportunities for bathing, so maybe it was just a general grass is greener mentality that was bringing her down. A peal of thunder covered her declaration, "Rule number two: The grass is never greener on the other side, so don't convince yourself it is but…don't let that stop you from checking, just in case."

As lightning illuminated the street, she squinted through the rain at a sign in a window. Did Ellen's Dress Shop have a help wanted sign up? With her luck it was probably just an announcement of an upcoming sale in honor of the Bicentennial, but…the rain was slowing. And the sun was even peeking through. True, the beams landed on the general store and not the dress shop, but an imperfect sign was still a sign. She hefted her suitcase and jogged though the final raindrops to the small shop. Yes. Help wanted.

A bell tinkled over her head as she entered and a stern looking woman looked up from a pattern she was examining behind the counter. "May I help you?'

"Yes, Ma'am. I saw the sign in your window and I'd like to inquire about the position. Are you…"

"I'm Ellen Patterson and I am the owner of this establishment. I don't recall seeing you around here before. I suppose you got your prom dress through one of those _mail order_ catalogues."

"Oh, no, Mrs. Patterson. I'm not even from Stillwater."

"_Ms_. Patterson," she corrected sharply. "I suppose you've got a boyfriend in the mine, then? I don't think I have a position for a single girl living in sin, not even for the summer, which is all I'm hiring for."

"Oh, Ms. Patterson, it's not like that at all!" This woman was just like the one who hadn't hired her at the antique shop in Blue Bell. She just had to play it right, especially if she were only going to have to commit for the summer. That would be ideal. She put on her best innocent simper and continued, "I wanted to spend this summer working somewhere away from home so I can learn to be independent before I start school in the fall. I'm beginning college at," she paused as she hunted around for the name of something in state that might impress, "Bryn Mawr." When the woman gave a barely perceptible sniff, she hung her head and changed her tack, "Well, truthfully, at a community college a few towns over from Bryn Mawr, but I thought you might not think that was as respectable as…"

The woman stood up very straight. "That's nothing to be ashamed of, girl. Only spoiled brats go to that overpriced, glorified finishing school and, quiet frankly, I would have my doubts about taking you on for the summer if that was your future plan. It's very respectable that you want to earn your keep. Can you sew?"

She could reattach buttons, so how hard could learning the rest be? She winged it. "My mother taught me when I was younger, but I'm afraid I'm a little rusty."

"Well, that's all right. Since it's my name on the shop, I do prefer to do the sewing myself. Nothing against you, but I have a reputation to uphold in these parts. It seems that every young woman in town decided to get married this summer and I'd have my hands full doing the fittings on all the gowns and bridesmaids' dresses in addition to tending to the normal business. Can you handle working as a shopgirl?"

"Oh, yes, Ma'am," she answered enthusiastically, satisfied that she'd managed to get a job less than thirty minutes after coming into town, counting her rain delay. "I'll start as soon as you'd like."

"Seeing as you walked in with your suitcase, why don't you…where will you be staying for the summer? Do you have family in these parts?"

"No, no family in town. I saw an inn just down the street, so, there, I suppose."

"That's not the place for a girl like you, with all those single miners skulking about." She didn't argue that it might be a great place for a girl like her, as that would involve describing a girl like her. Ms. Patterson went on, "Jackson Gibbs usually has a room to let, but I wouldn't send you there either. He's a perfectly good man, but that son of his… Why don't you wait here for a moment and I'll see if Gussie Hill has a room available. She usually rents to young married couples involved with the mine, but she may make an exception for you…hm. Either I'm getting older or you haven't mentioned your name yet."

"How rude of me!" she exclaimed, kicking herself for making such a stupid mistake. She was reminded that she hadn't even asked the most important question of all – what her salary would be. Still, she couldn't get into the deeper issues without giving her name. Her first name, anyway. "It's Shannon, Ms. Patterson. I'm sorry, but I guess I was just so excited about finding a job at the first place in town I checked!"

"Well, I didn't ask. Guess I'm just so used to knowing everyone's name and family that I forgot." Ms. Patterson disappeared through a door behind the counter into an office, only to poke her head through a moment later. "If you don't mind my asking, why _did_ you stop in Stillwater?"

She shrugged. "I saw the name on the list of railroad stops and thought it sounded like a nice, calm place to spend a few months. I'm glad I was so lucky."

"That you are young lady. There are plenty of stations up and down that line that would take you to towns, well…I don't want to speak ill of our neighbors. Just remember to say thank you when you say your prayers tonight. I'll just make that call."

Shannon walked to the window and looked out into the street as she waited. This might not be such a terrible place to spend two or three months, provided her salary was good. And she liked being able to see the train station right across the street. She whispered to herself, "Always have an escape plan. Should that be one or three?"


End file.
